Dawn Of The Dead: Flight Of Thought
by Indyfan
Summary: A short story about Peter's thoughts as he and Fran escape the zombie ridden mall(This is based on the 1978 version of DOTD)


Dawn Of The Dead: Flight Of Thought  
  
Peter pushed the door of the helicopter closed and fell back into the seat. Fran nervously handled the controls of the bird and turned to look at him.  
  
"You all right?" she said turning to look forwards again.  
  
Peter nodded and sat up in the seat "I'm fine, almost left back there with those guys"  
  
He pointed to the roof of the mall and stared as the zombies reached out to them in a futile attempt to snatch them from the sky. Fran began to handle the chopper more smoothly and smiled half-heartedly "Sorry 'bout that"  
  
Peter half closed his eyes and tried to stifle a laugh "Its alright"  
  
He pressed his face against the window and felt the cold glass cool his face. As he watched the world fly by under him, his thoughts fell on the time he had spent inside that mall. He was happy they had found a secure and relatively safe place.  
  
"I'm sorry about Steve" Peter said slowly. He regretted having to put a bullet in his friend's skull. He could picture the look of Steve's face as he pushed the door of their hideout open, he could still picture his lifeless eyes, his gray hands wielding that six shooter, blood leaking from his mouth. He knew the monster which stood before him was no longer Steve.  
  
Fran's voice broke the mental picture "You don't have to apologize, you had no other choice"  
  
"Yeah right" Peter thought clenching his fist "Like I had no choice with Roger"  
  
He could still remember finding Roger dead in the hiding place. He could still feel the sheets in his fingers as he pulled the covers over his face. His thoughts reflected on the moment he pointed his gun at his friend, He remembered as Roger slowly raised from his bed, those lifeless eyes seeing Peter as nothing more then his first live meal. He remembered pulling the trigger and watching with Shame and disgust as Rogers brains painted the back wall.  
  
He shook his head turned away from the window. Fran could see Peter was upset so kept quiet concentrating on her flying. She was impressed how well she was handling the chopper considering Steve had only given her one lesson before He...  
  
Fran shook away her thoughts about Steve and went back to flying. Peter searched through his pockets till he found what he was looking for. He took out a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. Peter opened it and saw there was one left. He closed and again and put it back in his pocket "Save it for later" he thought. He looked out the window and watched the rotor blades spin round. Fran saw Peter was looking out the window  
  
"Something wrong Peter?" She asked feeling slightly nervous.  
  
Peter narrowed his eyes and looked at Fran "How much fuel we got in this thing?"  
  
Fran worked the controls carefully and shrugged slightly "I-I don't know, but we did load it with supplies before we left, I think we might have put some fuel in the storage compartment.  
  
Peter nodded and began thinking to himself "Supplies, there's something we had plenty of back there"  
  
He began to think about all the stores they had access to. All the food, all the clothes, the electronic equipment, not that most of them where of any use. He then started to think of the bikers that invaded that mall. The ones who let those things inside their very own private fortress. It was their fault Steve was killed. Had they not opened the doors to the mall Steve would still be alive and they wouldn't be cooped up in some flying bird  
  
"Where do you think we should go?"  
  
Peter's train of thought of interrupted by Fran's voice.  
  
"Erm, I don't just far away from this city as possible, Canada if we can make it," He said looking back out the window.  
  
Fran nodded "I hope we can make it"  
  
Peter looked at Fran briefly "I doubt we'll get far, being low on fuel and having no weapons, we wouldn't last long if we crash down" He thought to himself.  
  
As he watched the ground rush passed him, he noticed a crashed motorcycle. This reminded him of his encounters with the gang. He remembered how good it felt to put a bullet in that biker with the ridiculous mustache. He remembered watching him fall into that fountain, dead and left to become a snack for the nearest zombie who was fortunate to come across his ugly carcass.  
  
Peter could feel himself getting tired. His eyelids began to weigh heavy. He struggled to keep them open. Fran could see Peter was trying to keep awake.  
  
"Get some sleep Peter, you need it' Fran said softly.  
  
Peter's eyes where half-opened "You sure?" he mumbled.  
  
"I'm sure" Fran replied.  
  
Peter's eyes began to close slowly "I hope if I wake up she hasn't crashed this hunk of metal"  
  
He kept his eyes on the stars as he drifted off to a well deserved sleep. 


End file.
